


The Promise of a Sweeter Tomorrow

by luna_for_president



Category: Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Explicit Consent, F/M, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Foreplay, Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, Mild canon divergence, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Slow Burn, Trauma, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:28:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26767288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luna_for_president/pseuds/luna_for_president
Summary: An imagining of our lovebirds coming together, one fine underworld evening.
Relationships: Hades/Persephone (Lore Olympus)
Comments: 141
Kudos: 405





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is my first stab at writing fanfic, and my first time really writing any type of fiction (or dialog, or smut)...but hey, we all cope differently with the excitement of our favorite comic coming back from hiatus (I wrote this back in early August).
> 
> The fic begins at a random day and time, and follows no specific event in the comic. It’s set sometime around when Persephone started working at Underworld Corp, and it diverges from the canon around chapter 110 of the comic (for obvious reasons).
> 
> The story is complete, and weighs in at roughly 10,500 words in 8 chapters. I plan to post one chapter per week until I get them all up. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did!

The petals fluttered in the wake of his passing - ephemeral flecks of green in his dim and lifeless realm. This place reflected him so well, all grays, drab blues and blacks. Color didn’t belong here. But still, he followed the faint, green path laid out before him, a whisper of springtime that pulled him onward with a gentle insistence he wouldn't dream of denying.

He found her sitting alone at a bench, looking out over the river and the ghostly city beyond. The brightness of her hair and skin against the dull skyline never failed to surprise him. Maybe it wasn’t that color didn’t belong here - she belonged wherever she was. He just didn’t...deserve color. Not here.

Even in the muted deeps of the land of death, she heard his footsteps and looked up as he approached. Her eyes were sadder than usual; clearly, something was weighing on her spirit. And yet, as he had found himself imagining many times over the past weeks...he couldn’t shake the feeling that in spite of everything, she was glad to see him.

Just the wishful thinking of an old fool, surely.

The corners of his mouth lifted when he saw Meli curled at her feet. “You little scamp. I didn’t even realize you were gone.”

“Pomelia’s been keeping me company...haven’t you, girl?” she cooed quietly, reaching under the seat to scratch the tiny dog around the ears. One slim, white shoulder strap slipped down her arm, and before his conscious mind could catch up to remind him about boundaries or limits, he found himself slipping the strap back into place, his fingers brushing against her collarbone. He froze and then hastily dropped his hand to his side, uncomfortably self-conscious.

Her eyes were on his face, her features a picture of naked vulnerability that could almost burn away his own insecurities. Blue flowers had begun to blossom around her temples. They suited her so much better than the acid green they replaced.

“We missed you at the meeting.” 

It was the only thing he could think to say. It was neutral. Safe. Impersonal.

She looked back over the dark water. There was a tension in the lines of her back, and he noted the faintest, telltale tremble around her mouth. “I’m really sorry I didn’t go. I just...couldn’t, today.”

He sighed and moved to sit at the other end of the bench. “You know, sweetness, I’m always here to talk, if something’s bothering you.”

“Sweetness, huh? I thought we agreed to keep things...professional.” He stiffened at his mistake, then relaxed when he saw that she was smiling. “Ten percent, for sure.”

“Only ten? I know I can do better than that.” 

It was easy to fall into the banter, but he could tell it was a distraction. Her tone was light and teasing, but her heart just wasn’t in it.

“Really, Persephone, I mean it. Anything I can do for you, I will. You have only to ask.”

The tremble became more noticeable. “Thank you, Hades. That means a lot to me.” 

Silence stretched between them, but something had shifted. Her stiff posture slumped a little, and she let out a deep breath. Her feet began to swing idly of their own accord as she reached down to pet her small friend again. “I think...I think this is all I need right now. Just to sit here quietly with you. If you don’t mind.”

It always took him by surprise, how a few simple, sincere words from her could open something inside his chest and let in a warm glow, like a match suddenly struck in a dark room. All he had to do was guide it to the hearth, and maybe he could have a bright fire where there had only been dead embers and ash.

“Then I’ll sit here for as long as you like.”

…

Peaceful minutes had passed. 

“Hades?” Her voice was barely louder than the whisper of the water. She was looking away and biting her lip. 

He leaned closer. “Mm?”

“I know I made a big deal out of boundaries, and I feel stupid for even asking this, but...do you think it would be okay if, um...if I put my head on your shoulder? I just...I haven’t been feeling very good lately.”

As if he could ever deny her.

“Of course, sweetness.” He lifted an arm in invitation, and she scooted over and practically melted into his warmth. Such a cold, dark realm, but somehow, for her, he always had warmth to spare. 

A heartbeat passed. Then another.

“Hades?” Her voice was even quieter than before, and he strained to hear her. He turned his head and saw how close her upturned face was to his own, her eyes full of an expression he couldn’t place. Vibrant blue flowers crowned her head, all green lost. 

“Yes, sweetness?” He raised one hand to brush away a stray lock of hair and cup her chin. “What is it?”

Her eyes fluttered shut and one of her hands reached up to caress his own, so large in comparison. The flowers in her hair weaved a sweet perfume around them, and, though he didn’t notice, a stand of blossoming almond trees began to grow around where they sat, blocking them from view. 

“Hades.” 

It was no longer a question. It didn’t demand an answer. It was just a quiet, private admission, breathed out on a quiet, private shore, in a quiet, private moment that stretched around them. Their noses brushed. Her hand slipped from his and joined the other to cup the sides of his face, glide behind his neck, slip into his hair. 

“Hades, I…” he felt the breath of her words on his lips...and then there was no space left for talking.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: Trauma reaction
> 
> Here's chapter two, please enjoy!

_So this is what wholeness feels like._ The thought flitted through his mind and got lost in the sweetness of her. Warm. Soft. Welcoming. Like the dreams that visited him in the loneliest hours of the night, made flesh and blood.

Her honesty and openness shone through in everything she did, it seemed. She parted her mouth and then mewled a breathy sound into his own as he traced her bottom lip with his tongue. He stilled and then smiled shakily against her lips.

“Sweetness,” he murmured, pulling away just enough to tilt her head and place a kiss behind her ear, “if you make sounds like that, I think my scoundrel rating might go through the roof.”

“It’s already maxed, I’m afraid. One hundred percent.” He pulled back to look at her; her eyes were dark, pupils blown. A few pink butterflies fluttered around her head. She met his gaze squarely, her expression uncharacteristically bold.

He chuckled. “Well, little goddess, I think it is my duty as a gentleman to inform you that if this is one hundred percent, one hundred percent is definitely not the limit.”

She shifted closer, her eyes locked with his. “Is that a promise?”

She would never cease to amaze him. 

“It is if you want it to be.”

\--

They made it as far as his kitchen. 

The trip home was a blur, forgotten as he murmured benedictions into her skin, lost in the scent of her: sweet irises mixed with an underlying fragrance that was indescribably _Persephone._

Unspoken meaning fluttered at the edges of every whispered praise: _I want to see you. I want to hear you. I want to touch you._

_I want to love you._

His hands ran down her back and caught on the zipper of her dress. He stilled, mesmerized as she stepped away from him and pivoted in place, slow and deliberate, looking over one shoulder and holding his gaze as she arched her back and dragged the zip down as far as she could reach. One meaningful look guided his hands to finish what she’d started.

She spun to face him and wound her arms around his neck. She was so...small. He gave in to her pull, sinking to his knees as she shimmied the straps of her dress from her shoulders, the fabric of her bodice catching on the upper swell of her breasts. With every new inch exposed to him, he was there, feathering kisses across her flushed skin, a deep magenta in the dim, reddish light from the appliances, utterly resplendent against the dark wood paneling of his kitchen walls.

“H-Hades…”

“Yes, sweetness?” he rumbled, nuzzling his nose into the softness, looking up with eyes stained red, almost black in the darkness.

The eyes looking back matched his own. She struggled to form the words. “Hades...I-I want…”

His hands joined hers to tug at the well-tailored fabric of her dress...and then he was taking in sheer lace and smooth skin, before his gaze lifted again to meet hers. 

He paused. He thought he’d seen something in her expression, a fleeting shadow of uncertainty. He scanned her features, watching with growing concern as her shoulders hunched, her arms coming up unconsciously to cross over her breasts. 

A cold feeling started in his chest. She had seemed so eager, but now that she was exposed to his gaze, the atmosphere had shifted. Somehow, she looked even smaller than usual - vulnerable. Fragile. 

Even on his knees, they saw nearly eye to eye. He caressed her cheek, looking intently into her face. “Is everything alright, sweetness?”

There it was - the tiny, telltale tremble around her mouth. Her eyes seemed...dim, as though she was looking past him. _Through_ him. The cold feeling expanded until it was like steel bands around his rib cage. “Are you still here with me? Sweetness? Persephone?”

Her eyes shifted back to him, and he quailed at what he saw there. She was...afraid of him. And why wouldn’t she be? He was the god of the underworld. Stinking of death. Terrifying to behold.

He was an idiot to have believed she could ever actually want this, once reality came knocking.

But then her expression softened, her gaze refocusing on his face. Her stiffened posture relaxed a little, though her arms stayed crossed and the tremble still threatened around the corners of her mouth. “I’m sorry, Hades. I’m alright,” she said, giving him a weak, unconvincing smile. 

Still searching her face, he stood. Worry gnawed at the pit of his stomach. Her features were the picture of uncertainty; she was even shaking a little. She looked so...lost. He pulled off his jacket and gently wrapped it around her shoulders, giving the gift of warmth - and privacy. Taking her face in his hands, he bent to press his forehead to hers, letting out a shaky breath.

“Sweetness, I’ve been alive for millennia, and I want you more than anything or anyone I’ve ever wanted.” 

_I want to love you._

“But I never want to do anything together that you don’t want to do. Not ever.”

Tears welled up and threatened to spill down her cheeks. All at once she was clinging to him, fisting her hands in his shirt, burying her face, breathing him in. He wrapped his arms around her and bent a little to rest his cheek on the top of her head, quietly relieved.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he repeated softly into her hair. “I just want you to be happy, Persephone.”

Muffled words reached his ears from somewhere in the vicinity of his sternum. He tried to pull back enough to hear her, but she moved with him, refusing to let go. She turned her head and whispered, more clearly this time, “But I did want to. I...I do want to. I just wish you…” She trailed off and buried her face back into his shirt. He barely made out her next words.

“I wish it had only ever been you.”

\--

_I wish it had only ever been you._

The grief in her voice painted a picture of pain and loss that should never have been.

“But Hades...I trust you...”

He felt undeserving of her trust, but if he had it, he would cherish it forever.

“And I want it to be you now.”

He cupped her chin and looked into her face. The expression he found there was so vulnerable, so young...abruptly, he scooped her up and cradled her to his chest. She squeaked in surprise, then relaxed against him.

“Sweetness, if that’s what you really want, I’m yours. But you have all the time in the world, and I think that’s enough for tonight.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “You’ve had a long day. Why don’t we get you some rest? You can stay here if you like.”

“Okay,” she whispered, nestling a little closer as he left the kitchen and headed down the hallway towards the guest room, passing walls of windows that looked out over the deep of the underworld. 

“Hades?”

“Mm?”

“Do you think I could sleep in your room tonight?” Her voice was soft, pleading. “I don’t want to be alone...Please?”

As if he could ever deny her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was the most difficult for me to get the flow of, and I've rewritten it several times.
> 
> One of the reasons I thought it would be nice to post a chapter a week is because it gives me a deadline to really reexamine each chapter and tackle some of the parts that feel awkward to me. Plus it's kinda fun to draw it out. :)
> 
> This fic isn't beta-ed, so if you see anything that seems wonky, please feel free to give a shout out. I used to do a lot of copyediting (though I do deviate from style guides somewhat as a personal preference), and I tend to re-read what I've posted multiple times and make small tweaks. That said, it's tricky to catch mistakes in your own work, especially when you've looked it over so many times! Aside from grammar and spelling, I am generally open to (and very appreciative of!) any feedback y'all might have.
> 
> Thank you again for reading, it's been really fun so far, and I'm looking forward to posting again next week!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy chapter 3!

Small though she was, his bed didn’t look empty when she was in it. 

He had given her one of his t-shirts, big enough to come down to her knees. It looked like a tent, the neck slipping down to expose one shoulder. Ridiculous. Utterly appealing. She finished changing in the master bathroom, brushed her teeth, and then came out and cocooned herself in a nest of sheets and blankets as though she had slept there every night of her life.

After hastily performing his own evening ablutions, he found himself standing uncertainly at the side of the bed. Her back was to him, but she looked over her shoulder and lifted the covers in a silent invitation. He didn’t need to be asked twice, slipping under the sheets and then rumbling contentedly as she nestled into him, spooning close against his chest. It felt so right to bury his nose in her hair, so natural to slip an arm around her waist, so pleasant when she threaded her fingers with his. He heard her huff out a quiet, satisfied sigh, and then he felt all the residual tension in her body drain away as she melted against him.

“This is nice.” She sounded so sleepy and content.

“Mm.” ‘Nice’ was an understatement. It felt...whole. A kind of wholeness that he hadn’t even known he’d been missing.

She shifted a little, then turned to face him. There was a softness in her eyes - trust and tenderness shone there. He smiled and kissed the tip of her nose, and she pressed her forehead to his. 

“It feels so right to be close to you.”

Again, he was struck by how just a few sincere words could reach into places that no one else had ever touched, and just... _live_ there, bringing light, brushing away the cobwebs. 

“Yes, it really does, doesn’t it.”

Her hand came up to stroke his face, and she gave him a long, lingering kiss. “I don’t think I ever want to leave,” she confessed in a whisper. More light and warmth, flooding into forgotten nooks and crannies. More cobwebs swept away.

He gave her a soft kiss of his own. “Then don’t. Just stay with me.”

Her hands weaved into his hair, her nails gently scratching across his scalp. He made an appreciative noise and buried his face in her neck. She giggled as his breathing tickled the fine hairs at her nape, and then her own breath hitched as he turned his head and nuzzled her throat. 

He lifted up and looked at her. He remembered what he’d said - she’d had a long day. He gave her one more chase kiss before he settled back down and gently pulled her to him, preparing to sleep. Spooned against his front, she burrowed in closer and laced her fingers with his, guiding their hands to rest near her heart.

—

Minutes ticked by.

“Hades?”

“Mm?”

She nestled even deeper, as if she wanted to dissolve into him completely. She squirmed, seemingly unable to settle. He was already half asleep, and it felt so good just to be close to her like this. He shifted and enveloped her completely in his embrace, wrapped around her like one of the blankets they shared. 

Still, the squirming continued.

“What is it, sweetness? You’d better get comfortable or you’ll never fall asleep.”

There was a pause, then, “Hades, I think...I think I don’t feel like sleeping.” 

He pulled away a little and propped himself up on one elbow, squinting to see her face in the dim light from his alarm clock. “Everything alright, sweetness? Do you want to talk about something?”

She shimmied backwards until she was pressed against him again, and drew his arms back around her, caressing his hands. The too-big shirt had ridden up, and his fingers found the warm skin of her belly.

“N-No...I'm not sure I feel like talking, either.”

The perfume from her hair was stronger than ever, utterly intoxicating. Petals tickled the tip of his nose. He breathed deep, the scent reaching an older, more primal part of his mind and memory. The faint, pink glow of a few errant butterflies illuminated the lines of her face.

“What _do_ you want, then, little goddess?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be longer - this one is a bit of a short tease, but it feels natural to split it at this spot. 
> 
> I originally tagged this fic as "slow burn" - I figure that even a story that takes place over the course of less than 24 hours can take its own sweet time. ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy chapter 4!

Her skin seemed hotter than it should have been. She held his hands, running her fingers across their broad expanse, then moved them lower, grazing lace. 

“Little goddess, what are you playing at?”

Her hands continued to dance with his. “I was just thinking...it’s not fair that only you get to have a scoundrel rating...your majesty.” 

“Is that so?” he murmured into her ear, and was rewarded with a shiver. 

He paused, wrestling with himself. She’d had a long day, but...experimentally, he nuzzled the spot behind her ear, and she let out a breathy sound and tilted her head, giving him better access to her neck.

He felt his gentlemanly resolve begin to crack. Long day or no...he could hardly deny her anything she might ask of him...could he? He gave her another nuzzle. “Well, then, how do you propose we set the scales to rights?”

She shifted her hips, creating more friction between them. No answer.

“Trying to distract me? That must put you at thirty percent at least. But I can hardly call _you_ a scoundrel.”

“I’m...open to suggestions,” she breathed. Another tantalizing shimmy. She had shifted their hands higher, just grazing the undersides of her breasts.

“Let’s see...succubus?” He placed an open-mouthed kiss on her bare shoulder, and his fingers moved down to trace ticklish circles along her ribs.

She giggled and squirmed. “Hardly. Stop that!” 

“Hmm. Brat, then. That’s it for sure.” Another hot, wet kiss just below her jaw.

She slapped at one of his hands. “How rude! That takes you up to at _least_ sixty percent.” Her mock outrage dissolved into a soft whine as he chuckled near her ear.

“Not a brat, not a succubus…” He smoothed his hands across her belly and over her hips, slow and deliberate. “Minx?”

Her breath was coming faster now, her hands tracing paths along his forearms. “I-I think we can do better than that, but I guess it’s acceptable. Just as an interim title.”

“Very well. Then I think I’d have to say that you are at least...one hundred and twenty percent Interim Minx.”

“Hades! Seventy percent scoundrel! It doesn’t work like that - you have to grade on a curve!” As if to emphasize her point, she ground her hips into him in earnest, and he groaned and pulled her even closer.

“Sweetness,” he growled into her ear, eliciting a high, animalistic whine from her throat that went straight to his groin, “I assure you that I have been grading your curves for weeks, and that little maneuver definitely just kicked you up to one hundred and sixty percent.” She writhed against him, radiating heat. “I’m the king of the underworld. My house, my bed, my rules.”

Her movements stilled, her body nearly vibrating with tension as she looked back with a glint in her eye. “Throwing your weight around, _your majesty?_ You’re right. I might have to revise my scoundrel ratings. That sort of nonsense should definitely tip you over one hundred.” 

She flipped suddenly to face him, hooking a leg over his waist. “King or not, everyone knows it should be ladies’ choice,” she cooed, clearly pleased at his reaction. She looked down at her nails in mock boredom, then nonchalantly added, “but I guess a lady can be gracious and entertain even a scoundrel’s ideas.” 

She leaned in close to run her lips up his neck and then purred into his ear, practically gloating at having gained the upper hand. “For starters, these dimples are too distracting.” One slim, pink finger ran down his cheek, and was followed by a kiss to each offending feature. “Yes, I think those should count for twenty percent right off the bat. And I’m afraid I’ll need to tack on another thirty percent to your baseline - you’re much too large. I can hardly reach all the parts of you I want at the same time.” 

As if to illustrate her point, she leaned in for a kiss, but then shimmied down his body until she found the fit she sought, making him crane his neck to chase her lips.

“Dear, dear,” she giggled, putting a finger to her chin in mock dismay. “That puts you at...what, fifty percent? Before you even have the chance to *say* anything scoundrelly? Maybe it’s a two hundred point scale after all.”

“Is that right?” Teasing aside, she had something there. When he was thinking straight, he was more than a little concerned about the logistics of bedding a woman literally half his size. Currently, he was inclined to be optimistic, but he didn’t want to hurt her.

“You’re damn right it is. It’s unfair.”

“I suppose it is. I guess I’ll just have to make up for it by being more...accommodating.” He stroked down her outer thigh and then ran the tips of his fingers along her calf. An idea began to form, even through the haze she was working on his mind. “I’ll grant the lady a boon. But one of my own choosing.”

“That’s not how boons work!” she protested, squirming away from the ticklish touch. She grabbed the offending hand and moved it squarely over her bottom. “Stop tickling me, or your scoundrel rating will never recover.”

He squeezed reflexively and let out an appreciative rumble. “I’m counting on it.”

“You’re incorrigible,” she laughed, smacking him gently on the chest. “I like it.” She let her hand roam over the broad expanse of his upper body. He held his breath as she ventured lower, then exhaled as the hand slipped under his shirt to meet his skin, her fingers beginning to ghost along his scars. She looked up at him, suddenly serious. “Is this uncomfortable?” 

“No, sweetness, it’s been a long time since those scars have given me any trouble.”

“Can I see?” Her face shone with open curiosity. “Please?”

As if he could deny her anything.

He grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head, his scars showing pale against his skin even in the dim light. He sat back against the headboard, ever so slightly back lit by the ghostly city beyond his windows, self-conscious of his marred flesh. 

She knelt beside him, and the gentle, roving hands returned. She sighed. “They’re so beautiful. They make you look like the night sky.”

He snorted. “Last I checked, the night sky isn’t covered in lines.”

She shifted forward and began to follow each ridge with her lips. “That isn’t what I meant,” she murmured against his skin. “It’s the colors - dark blue and silvery white. They go so well together.” Her tongue joined her lips and he found he was no longer inclined to argue. She slipped her hands up his chest, over his shoulders, and around his neck. The rest of her followed, settling into his lap, and she traced a line of kisses along his jaw, eliciting a sharp intake of breath. She shifted back and looked into his eyes.

“I think you’re beautiful,” she whispered, no trace of teasing in her voice. Just honest, open, sweet Persephone. Undoing him again. She shifted from goddess, to teasing minx, to this state of open vulnerability so easily. It made him dizzy.

“Well, I guess I can’t very well call you a liar, so I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“You’d better.”

He felt something bitter well up in him. “I don’t understand what I did to deserve you,” he said quietly, caressing her cheek with one large hand.

“Me? I’m just a B-grade goddess from the mortal realm who barely knows anything.” She looked down and frowned a little. “You’re a king. I should be asking you the same thing.”

His own feelings of self-pity were immediately forgotten. 

“Persephone.” He cupped her chin and ran his thumb over her bottom lip, then lifted his hand to stroke her hair. “I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks about you. And in this one and only case, that includes you.” 

She looked shocked - hurt, even - but he pressed on. “You are the most glorious being I’ve ever met, and I am honored by every moment you allow me to be in your presence.” Her mouth thinned a little and she tried to look away again, but he gently brought her back to meet his gaze. “I mean it, Persephone,” he said quietly. 

She softened. “Really?”

“On my life.” 

That got a small smile out of her. “We’re immortal, silly.”

“All the better. Makes it a much stronger oath than swearing on some common mortal’s life.”

“Well…” That telltale glint was back in her eye. _“‘I guess I can’t very well call you a liar, so I’ll have to take your word for it,_ ’” she teased, her fingers drawing quotes in the air.

A laugh rumbled out of him. From serious to playful again in the blink of an eye. He pulled her in for a kiss. “Well, whatever the scale,” he growled, “you are definitely at _least_ one hundred percent minx.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Witty repartee is the best foreplay, IMO.
> 
> I love the line “as if he could deny her anything” and all its permutations, and I snuck it in all over the story as an intentional repeated phrase. I actually almost *titled* the story that, and heck, I might go back and change it at some point. 😉


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy chapter 5!

They lay facing one another, drowsily sensual. He toyed with the neckline of her enormous night shirt, dipping a finger down the front to feel the softness of her skin. Her eyes were closed, and she let out a contented sigh at the gentle touch. He contemplated the idea of sleep, but her earlier self-deprecation was still nagging at him. 

B-grade goddess indeed. The very idea.

“Sweetness, I seem to recall promising you a boon.”

Her eyes remained shut as his fingers continued to wander. “Mmm...you did. But ‘a boon of *your* own choosing?’ Sounds suspect. I don’t trust it.”

“You don’t trust me? You wound me, little goddess.”

She cracked open an eye. “Listen, if you want to give me some kind of mystery boon, you’d better tell me what it is first.”

“And ruin the surprise? I think not.”

“Then I’m gonna have to reject your boon. Deal with it.” She flipped around to face away from him, but he could see the hint of a smirk just visible at the corner of her mouth.

He shifted forward until she was flush against his front, and dragged his fingers lightly along her arm. “Should I see if I can convince you?” 

“Do your worst.”

He let out a deep chuckle as he massaged along her collar bone, one large hand nearly spanning her upper chest. “That sounds like a challenge, little goddess. Be careful what you wish for.” 

“I’m not wishing for anything. This ‘boon’ crap is all you.”

“Tsk. How rude. You don’t even know what it is. Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

“Mmm...no.” But she had begun shifting her hips again, belying her words. She was so...responsive, to his voice, his breath, his touch. It was a heady feeling, to know he could affect her this way.

“What a shame.” Gently, he rolled her back towards him and looked into her face, more serious. “Do you trust me, Persephone?”

“Of course I do. I told you I did, remember?” He could see the soft truth of her words shining in her eyes as she gazed up at him.

“Good.” He caressed her cheek, and her eyes fluttered shut as he bent to kiss the corner of her mouth. She turned her head to meet him and they melted into one another.

The rushed and fevered kisses in the kitchen couldn’t compare to this, in the intimacy of his bed, in the intimacy of the space they had woven together with touches and words, vulnerability and laughter. 

She clung to him, hands fisted in his hair, as he balanced his weight on one forearm and massaged down her side with his free hand. Small, pink fingers came down to meet his, and, to his surprise, she drew him to her breast. He let out a huff of air. Large as his hand might be, she filled it amply, and her skin felt so warm through the thin material of her shirt. She broke the kiss and looked up, suddenly a little shy. 

“D-Do you want to see?”

“I think that should be fairly obvious.”

She swatted at him. “Watch it, mister. You’re on probation.”

“Oh? And what are the terms of said probation?”

“Hmm,” she mused, toying with his fingers. “I think you should take off those sweatpants.”

“No can do, little goddess. It would hardly be fair.” His words were teasing, but there was no bite to them - he thought he could sense a hint of nervousness again, and he would never dream of pushing her.

He certainly was not expecting to be suddenly yanked down for another passionate kiss. “C-Careful, little goddess, you’ll pull me off balance. I don’t want to crush you.” 

Her only response was to slip her tongue into his mouth. Gods, she tasted exactly like he always thought she would. It was overwhelming. He slipped his own tongue past her lips and drank her in. Her legs had somehow wrapped themselves around his waist, and she stuttered her hips against him, seeking friction. She untangled one hand from his hair and guided his fingers underneath the material of her shirt, lifting it as she went, pressing her breast into his palm. He glanced down and was struck by the contrast of their skin - dusky pink and midnight blue in the dim light of his room. Looking him in the eye, she drew up the shirt to her chin, then quickly yanked it over her head, pulling him down for another kiss before he had the chance to see her clearly.

“You know, Persephone,” he murmured against her lips, “I’m surprised that a goddess who grew up frolicking in the mortal realms and bathing under the stars even thinks twice about nakedness.” He ran his fingers over one nipple, feeling it pebble under his touch.

“I guess you’re...different, from flower nymphs. Or Hermes.”

He pulled back slightly. “What’s this about Hermes, now?”

She giggled and let her hands drop from his hair to rest at either side of her head, opening herself to his gaze. He admired her beneath him, all pink softness laid out on his dark sheets, naked but for the smallest scrap of lace. “Don’t be jealous. Hermes and I used to take baths together. We’re friends.”

He ran one hand down her side, cupped the roundness of her belly, trailed his fingers over the curve of her hip. “What’s so different about me, then? Not friendly enough?” 

She was watching him watch her, her head turned away a little. “No, that’s not it. You just don’t...feel like anyone else.”

“Oh? What do I feel like?”

She propped herself up on her elbows, brow furrowed, suddenly serious.

“I...I dunno. You smell like woodsmoke and you taste like scotch and you feel like...home, I guess.”

There it was again. The sincerity. The warmth. The glow.

“You feel like home, too,” he said quietly. He bent down to kiss the swell of her breast, then lightly bit at her nipple, eliciting a surprised gasp and then a moan as he swirled over it with his tongue. “You taste like almonds.” He breathed deep. “And you smell like a spring morning after a rain shower.”

She snorted halfheartedly, and then let out a high, breathy sound as he transferred his attention to the other breast. 

“That’s too easy. I’m the goddess of spring. It’s...cliché.” She breathed out the final word as he replaced his mouth with his hands and traced her ribs with his tongue. “Ah! What did I tell you about the tickling?” she admonished. 

“I think you said to definitely do it, but my memory is a little patchy,” he murmured into the skin of her hip, before giving it a gentle nip. He trailed up her body and looked into her face. “Are you ready for your boon, little goddess?” 

Her expression lay somewhere between nervous and anticipatory. “I guess...I won’t know until I know, will I?” 

A challenge. Good. He smiled at her. “I guess not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any guesses as to what this mystery boon might be? Tune in next week and maybe you'll find out. :)
> 
> I've started using a text-to-voice webtool as a crude beta process: https://ttsreader.com/ (the American English female voice was the most natural sounding of the bunch, IMO). Hearing it read out loud helps me find typos or awkward turns of phrase. Does anyone else do this, or have a similar strategy?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy chapter 6!

He shifted them to a sitting position, her back nestled against his front, every inch of her body accessible to his touch. He bent to press a line of kisses down her neck and palmed her breasts, feeling the weight of them in his hands. It almost strained the limits of credibility, for her to be this soft, nipples pebbled into points in the cool air of his room. He knew she must be able to feel the evidence of his own arousal pressing into her, separated by only a few layers of cloth. She writhed under his touch and ground back into him. Exquisite. 

He ran one hand down her body until he reached the lacy hem of her underwear. He paused there, and murmured in her ear, “May I?”

“Mm-hmm,” she breathed.

“Is that a yes?”

“Y-Yes.”

He paused for a beat. “Are you sure?”

She tilted her head back until she could see his face. Not his most flattering angle, but she didn’t seem to care. Her voice came out surprisingly pert.

“Hades, I swear to the gods, if you don’t start touching me properly, I’ll have to do it myself.”

He groaned internally at the thought of those slim, pink fingers working her into a frenzy while he watched. “You say that like it’s a bad thing, little goddess,” he murmured into her ear. “Honestly, I’m of half a mind to let you.”

“I don’t know where to put your scoundrel rating right now,” she sighed as he traced the lace with his fingertips, letting her head fall back against his bare chest, “but it’s definitely up there.”

“Little goddess, I only get to do this for the first time once. I want to savor the experience.”

She huffed but sank back. He rewarded her by dipping his fingers below the hem, petting the soft, fine hair he found there. He could smell her. She did smell like rain on a spring day - almond blossoms and sweet irises; wet, fertile earth and green, growing things, overlaid with a scent that was just uniquely...her.

His fingers continued their downward path. He’d known she’d be wet after what felt like an eternity of teasing touches; still, his mind was filled with a vision of divesting himself of his remaining clothing, lifting her up, and sliding into her welcoming heat. Size difference be damned; it couldn’t _not_ fit with this much lubrication to ease the way. 

Another time. 

He dragged his fingers up her body, over one nipple, and then sucked away the wetness. Her hand reached up and dragged him back again. He let her guide his fingers, his other hand running over every inch of her he could reach as her voice rose in volume and pitch. 

For once, he was glad of his empty house. He wanted to be the only one to hear her coming undone like this. Her head lolled on his chest, eyes shut, lips parted as she keened her approval. Gauging her carefully, he stilled his fingers.

Her eyes shot open. “What in Gaia’s name do you think you’re doing? Don’t stop!” 

It was so satisfying to hear her like this - confident and demanding. No trace of hesitation in her voice. No shy stutters. Just pure, unadulterated need. 

“I still owe you your boon, little goddess.”

“Forget the boon. Get back to business!”

“A tempting offer. But really, I must insist.” She squirmed, and he deftly flipped her on her back, reaching back down to touch her. Propped up on one elbow, looming above her, he watched her face intently, and saw the faintest hint of a shadow there. He stilled again. “Persephone?”

She met his eyes and pulled him down for a kiss. “I trust you,” she said, jutting out her chin as though she was challenging some deep, inner part of herself to contradict her.

“I’m so glad you do.” He shifted and moved his hand to her hair, then to her face, tracing her eyebrows, the curve of her cheek, the freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose. “Your trust is very precious to me.”

She opened her eyes and they were so full of... _her_. She reached up and mirrored his movements, tracing her fingers over his eyebrows, his hairline, the line of his jaw, feathering over his eyelids. He leaned into her touch as she caressed his cheek, opening his eyes to admire her, laid out beneath him.

“You are the most beautiful being I have ever seen.” 

She smiled, then giggled. “Don’t tell Aphrodite this time.”

“I suppose that's sound advice. But privately, I must say you are _infinitely_ her superior.”

“Do you usually talk about other goddesses in bed, Hades? Seems like a risky strategy.” She tried - and failed - at giving him a coquettish look, dissolving into giggles instead. 

“Listen, sweetness," he growled playfully, "you started it.”

“Don’t you think it’s about time you ended it?” She wound her arms around his neck and tried to bring him back down to her.

“Hmm. You may have a point, there.”

“Not enough of one, I don’t.”

He chuckled and let her pull him the rest of the way down, partly covering her with his body, careful not to crush her under his weight. He craned his neck to kiss her, jerking reflexively as she ground her hips into him. 

He was a patient man with a great deal of self-restraint, but it was starting to fray. 

“Now, now, little goddess,” he chided in a voice that was more strained than he would have liked, “I told you - I still owe you a boon.”

She fell back with a defeated sigh. “If this boon doesn’t materialize soon, I’m going to start thinking that his majesty is all talk,” she said conversationally to the ceiling. 

“Well, we can’t have that, now can we.” She reached for the front of his pants, then huffed with annoyance as he caught her hand. “Be patient with me, sweetness, just for a little longer. I promise.”

Gently, he sat up and lifted her to the edge of the bed, then moved to kneel in front of her. Her tousled head popped up, an inquiring look on her face; he gave her a devilish smile and planted a kiss on her inner thigh. Her eyes widened. Slowly, maintaining eye contact, he dragged the last vestige of her clothing down her legs, brought the scrap of lace to his nose, and then let it drop to the floor.

“I don’t think you’ll be needing those,” he said, feigning nonchalance. She made a guttural sound and reached ineffectually for a pillow.

“I want to see you,” she whined, the needy pitch of her voice tearing at his carefully maintained self control. He stood and retrieved it, bringing a second pillow to the foot of the bed with him.

“Now, where was I. Ah, yes.” 

He moved his hands down her body, massaging lightly as he went. Ran his fingers along the seam of one thigh, brushing fine, soft hair scattered with a few forget-me-nots that emitted an even more enticing scent than the ones crowning her temples. He breathed it in, then blew a gentle stream of air over her. She squirmed and reached down to touch herself, but he caught her hands easily in one of his own. “No, no, little goddess. This is my turn,” he murmured, transforming her huff of frustration into breathy moan as he trailed kisses down one thigh, then up the other. His thumbs followed the curve of her hips, and he slipped one hand down to stroke her with featherlight touches. She covered his fingers with her own and pressed down insistently, demanding more pressure. He smiled into her skin and licked a slow, wet stripe up her inner thigh, guiding her legs over his shoulders, spreading her wider. He sat back just a little and then nuzzled her with his nose. She shifted in surprise, then nearly sobbed with relief when his lips and tongue made contact with the most sensitive part of her. 

He was surrounded by her, his every sense utterly overwhelmed. Her thighs clamped around him. Her scent was everywhere. Her taste was on his tongue. Flowers bloomed on every surface, petals falling all around them. He could feel his own neglected arousal chafing against the confines of his clothing.

She was babbling, a few words discernable here and there, but mostly just wordless, keening cries of pleasure. He replaced his mouth with his thumb and experimentally slicked his fingers against her. They glided so easily. He slipped one inside and she let out a throaty moan of approval. Encouraged, he went deeper, following the gyrations of her hips. She was tight and wet and hot, and he wanted nothing more than to shove that pillow under her hips and drive into her until she screamed his name loud enough for everyone in the three realms to hear. 

Later.

He crooked his finger and was rewarded with a strangled cry. She was thrusting against his hand, begging for more pressure, more contact...more. His mouth was on her again, another finger added to the first, her own fingers snarled in his hair, pulling hard, grinding herself against his face. He snaked his other hand below his clothing and pressed his palm against himself, desperate for relief. 

There was no questioning the exact moment she came apart. A burst of pink light filled the room with the fluttering of hundreds of butterflies as she convulsed around him and cried out, quieter than before, her voice stolen by the intensity of her release. Wetness seeped around his fingers as he gentled his motions, riding out her pleasure until she pushed at him weakly and fell back. His scalp ached where she had wrapped his hair around her fingers. He’d have to get used to that. And the butterflies. And gods above, it was going to take an hour to clean up all these flower petals. 

Wearing a self-satisfied grin, he lifted her fully into bed and crawled in to lay next to her. She dragged him down to utterly ravage his mouth, tasting herself there.

“Aidoneus,” she gasped, breaking away. He had never cared much for that name until she said it.

“Yes, beloved?”

“N-Nothing.” She fell back and lay there, boneless, spent. He admired her, flushed and sated in his crumpled sheets, eyes shut, completely at ease in his room, in his house, in his realm, and with him. 

She cracked an eye and peered at him. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

She propped herself up on her elbows. “Don’t give me that. I’ve got eyes. I see it.”

Chuckling, he bent down to kiss her. “Don’t worry about me. This was supposed to be your boon, remember?”

She sighed and flopped back. “I’d like to argue, but I don’t think I can move. What the hell did you do to me?”

_I loved you._

He gave her another gentle kiss. “Only what a minx such as yourself deserves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, some meat and potatoes. 
> 
> This was super fun to write. Unlike some of the other chapters, I was pretty happy with the very first draft of this chapter, and I didn't end up changing much when I came back to edit it today.
> 
> Hopefully earth-shakin' oral is an acceptable boon - at least, I think Persie would agree. And add a sprinkle of gentlemanly self-denial to keep things spicy. Two more chapters to go!
> 
> PS - I have a random question about subscribers:
> 
> Does anyone know if subscribed readers get updates *every time* an author makes an edit to a chapter, or just when a new chapter is initially posted? I am hoping it's the latter.
> 
> If you happen to be subscribed to this story (and thank you very much if you are!), you'd definitely know one way or the other, since I go back and forth editing fiddly little shit quite a bit after posting. I assume AO3 just sends out one notification when a chapter goes up, but I want to be double sure you're not getting bombarded - if you are, I'll change my posting process. Thank you!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy chapter 7!

It was admittedly uncomfortable, trying to fall asleep. She lay in his arms, utterly spent and, to his amusement, snoring ever so slightly. It was gratifying to see her this way, dead to the world, completely trusting in him. 

He pressed a featherlight kiss to her temple, then carefully scooted back, shifting his weight and slipping out of bed. He waited a beat to make sure he hadn’t woken her - he wanted to be there whenever she came back to the world of the living. Or rather...when she came back to the land of the dead? 

Such an unfortunate turn of phrase for the king of the underworld.

He pulled on a sweatshirt and padded to the kitchen. The scotch was - as always - in its familiar place, a reliable comfort. He poured himself two fingers before sliding open the balcony door for a cigarette. Cerberus, who’d had the sense to make himself scarce for the past few hours, came to his side and whined softly. His master absently scratched him around the ears, hardly noticing when heavy paws trod away again, as quietly as they’d come.

One cigarette was reduced to the butt, then another, as his mind drifted from thought to thought. Gauging himself, he sighed and flicked open his lighter for a third, drawing the smoke in deep, then letting it out in a thin, steady stream. He allowed his thoughts to continue their wandering. Frenzied kisses in the kitchen... How melancholy she’d looked on the bench, gazing out over dark water... An explosion of brilliant butterflies over his bed... The way her small, pink feet had turned inward as she stood in the bathroom doorway, swimming in his enormous shirt, and how she’d crawled into his bed without a second thought, like she belonged there.

She did belong there. What had she said? 

_I don’t think I ever want to leave._

“Good,” he said quietly to the chill air. “My heart couldn’t take it anyway.”

Calmed, finally able to feel a little sleepiness of his own, he made his way back through the dark house, pausing in the guest bathroom to brush his teeth. 

“No one likes kissing an ashtray. I’m going to have to work on cutting back.” 

Silent as a shade, he slipped back into the bedroom and crawled under the covers, grumbling to himself when he saw that Cerberus had made himself at home at his lover’s feet. Dogs were definitely _not_ allowed on the bed.

“Where did you go? I missed you.” 

Damn. She’d woken up after all.

“Just using the bathroom.”

She snuggled close and buried her face in his shirt. “You smell like smoke.” Her voice came thick and drowsy. “I like it. It smells like you.” 

Well. Maybe he wouldn’t be cutting back after all.

“I’m sorry I left you, sweetness.” 

“I don’t mind,” she yawned. “I only woke up just now, when you came back.”

He smiled. “Then how could you miss me?”

“I missed you in my sleep, silly.”

Once upon a time - a few weeks ago? an eternity? - the future hadn’t held much interest for him. An inexorable, repeating march of days, those to come much like those that had already been. But this little goddess, with her sweet words and her gentle touch, her open acceptance and her unabashed enjoyment of his company...from the moment he’d first laid eyes on her, she’d brought him dreams hitherto unimaginable: the whispered promise of a much sweeter tomorrow.

He could never force her to stay, of course...but how could he possibly ever let her go? He gathered her closer and buried his nose in her hair, some absent, far-off part of his mind observing that it had grown long and thick. It was truly everywhere; he’d have to help her cut it tomorrow.

“The sooner you go to sleep, the sooner you can see me in the morning,” he half-murmured, half-recited, his words bringing with them the ghost of an old memory. His mother had used to tell him that.

“That sounds nice,” she sighed. Her voice began to trail away, barely audible as she drifted. “I guess I better get some rest...I think I might...have a boon of my own to bestow tomorrow.”

In the space of a few moments, her breathing evened again, and the tiny snores returned, gently moving a few stray strands of hair that had snuck their way across her face.

 _Gods damn it._ Trust her to undo the effects of a thirty-minute smoke break in one soft, sleep-drunk sentence.

Pushing back the thoughts that threatened to run rampant across his mind, he reluctantly turned his attention to the mindfulness techniques his therapist had taught him. 

Breathe in through the nose...two...three...four…

Out through the mouth...two...three...four…

Pacing his breathing, he slowly scanned up his body from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head, methodically releasing the residual tension from each muscle group in turn, always coming back to the count...two...three...four. 

He hardly noticed as his subconscious mind began to time each measured breath to the sound of her snores. To the gentle rise and fall of her chest. To the barely perceptible rhythm of her heart. 

Slowly...slowly...he drifted away, surrounded by the scents of springtime, and the promise of perhaps more than just one sweeter tomorrow to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end!  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> JK. 😘 While this is technically the end of the fic, there will be an epilogue next week...told from a new perspective. If you'd like a teaser, feel free to check out the fic tags, and see which ones haven't come up yet. 👀
> 
> I think I gave myself cavities writing this chapter. These two are too fucking sweet.
> 
> Shout out to [Myth_is_a_Mirror](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myth_is_a_Mirror/pseuds/Myth_is_a_Mirror) \- I started my editing today right after bingeing her fic [Fight for What You Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21446365/chapters/51105676). Her writing is so immersive that it totally primed me to read back through my entire fic today and actually feel the flow of what I'd written again; I had been feeling disconnected from it, having re-read the damn thing so many times. Thanks for bringing back the magic!


	8. Epilogue: A Sweeter Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy this epilogue, told from a new perspective.
> 
> CW: very mild allusions to trauma

The faint, ghostly light of the eternal city filtered through the picture windows above the bed, the endless night uncaring of the morning hour. Helios could not come here. 

She stirred and blinked heavy eyelids, the dim room coming into focus. Warmth and safety enveloped her, one strong arm still looped around her waist. She turned her head to look into his face, and was struck by how much younger he looked, the cares of long work days forgotten in the arms of Hypnos. Metaphorically speaking. Hypnos tried not to be too hands-on these days; there had been...complaints.

The faint hint of cigarette smoke still clung to him, nearly eclipsed by the stronger smell of sex, all mixed with the clean, heady scent of _him_. She breathed him in and rubbed her face against the rough material of his shirt. Memories bubbled up in her slowly waking mind and she sighed, her body feeling the echoes of his touches, his looks, his hands, his mouth. She ran her own hands down her skin and felt the stickiness of old sweat and sexual arousal. She liked it. It smelled...animal. Feral. Wild.

But she also liked the freshness of a clean day. 

She carefully disentangled herself from him; no small task, given that she had roughly eight feet of hair to contend with. She could grow it out just fine, why couldn’t she...suck it back in, too? 

Padding to the bathroom, she shut the door part way and rummaged around for scissors, a trimmer, anything. She had to settle for a straight razor - _I should have known_ \- but managed to get a fairly even, chin-length crop without any mishaps.

 _It’s going to take forever to clean this up._ She ruefully eyed the ankle-deep mess of petals surrounding her. _A problem for later, I guess._

As could have only been expected, the bathroom gleamed with understated luxury - shiny, black, mica-flecked granite flooring and walls; thick, luxurious gray towels; a spacious walk-in shower with a bevy of mysterious buttons and jets.

She stepped in and examined the controls. Turning a knob, she squeaked as she was suddenly doused in a spray of cold water. 

“Need some help, sweetness?”

She spun around and caught him grinning at her, sweatpants slung low across his hips, his sweatshirt left behind somewhere. Trying not to feel self-conscious in the brightness of the ceiling lights, she turned back again and twisted the knob further, and was relieved when the water warmed. 

“I can handle myself, I think,” she said coyly, sneaking a glance over her shoulder. 

“Is that so? Carry on then.” He picked up his toothbrush and turned on the tap. 

“Although I must say, I think I like it even better when you handle me.”

He stilled, then deliberately continued with his ablutions. For a moment, she was almost afraid he might ignore her tacit invitation, but he finished rinsing his mouth, examined himself in the mirror, and then moved to the shower door.

“Well, then...would you mind if I joined you?”

“N-No. Not in the slightest.”

To her surprise - and disappointment - he entered the shower without removing his remaining clothing, coming to wrap his arms around her from behind. They stood there for a beat, the warm water washing over them.

“Do you usually shower with your pants on, your majesty?”

He chuckled. “Not typically, no.”

“Maybe they should come off, then.” She turned and gave him a meaningful look, hooking her fingers in his waistband.

“As the lady wishes.”

In one smooth motion, she pulled down pants and drawers, acutely aware of how he stood half at attention from her closeness. She hadn’t seen many naked men in her lifetime - Hermes was her main point of comparison - and never like this, never so close. 

She straightened and tossed the wet clothes into a corner, then stood on tiptoe to wind her arms around his neck. She let herself lift off the ground to see eye to eye, pressing herself against his chest, slick skin meeting slick skin.

“That’s better, don’t you think?”

“Indeed. I am in your debt, little goddess.” He leaned in to kiss her, but she moved her head back a little, thwarting him.

“Mm...I’m afraid it’s the other way around, from what I remember.” With another meaningful look, she leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I just can’t abide unfairness.” She nipped at his earlobe to emphasize her point, and his hands slipped to her behind, pulling her close, letting her feel him pressed against her thighs.

“And how do you propose we even the score?” 

She gave in to his pull and left a lingering kiss on his lips. 

“I could...wash your back. It’s been lonely bathing by myself, since I left the mortal realms.” She let go and reached for a sea sponge from a rack of toiletries on the wall, but he caught her wrist and pulled her back to him.

“I’m sorry, little goddess. I don’t think I can accept back washing as a suitable trade.”

“As always,” she purred, “I’m open to suggestions.”

He reached out and pumped two pumps of soap from a dispenser on the rack, and a pleasant, woodsy scent filled the shower. “Hmm...I think you should let me wash _you._ ”

“Hades! That doesn’t even the score. I’m supposed to do something for you, not the other way around!”

“Sweetness, I think it should be obvious that this is already doing a great deal for me.”

Her eyes dropped, then rose back up to his face. She could feel the flush starting on her neck, moving across her upper chest. She liked having this effect on him. It made her feel powerful, to be wanted like this, to be wanted by him. Even when he was calling the shots, she felt in control. This was her decision; he would never make it for her.

She turned and looked over her shoulder. “To each their own, I guess.” She patted one of her shoulder blades. “Get to it, then.”

Chuckling, he reached past her to fiddle with the buttons and dials, filling the shower with steam and more pleasant jets of water. Shifting back, he moved her lengthening hair aside and started at her neck and shoulders, massaging away the few residual knots of tension left from trying to puzzle out her work computer. She loved the way his hands enveloped her - large, capable of great strength...and equal gentleness.

He continued down her back, working pleasant, tingling circles across her skin with soap and sponge. He reached around and soaped her breasts, weighing them in his hands, then lifted each of her arms and tickled under them, making her squeal, before returning to her back, soothing away her indignation.

She had missed this. As frustrating as it had been, to always have flower nymphs in her shadow...coming to Olympus, she never could have anticipated the cold loneliness of a bath - or bed - for one.

He turned her and ran soapy hands and sponge down each leg, and she braced against his shoulders as he knelt and lifted first one foot, then the other, ensuring each was given proper care and attention. He gently ran the sponge over her bottom, across the cleft between her legs, and up her belly. She let out a breath. Her body was tingling, the sound of the water loud in her ears. 

She gently pulled him to stand back up and took the sea sponge from him. “My turn.”

Where her own body and the bodies of her sister nymphs were all softness and pliability, his flesh was firm and solid. The raised pattern of scars extended to his thighs - she traced each with the sponge as the scent of the soap wove around them. 

She had to lift off the ground to wash his shoulders, looping her arms around him from behind to reach along his collarbone. His hands came up to meet hers, and she embraced him before continuing her pleasant task. She worked her fingers into his hair and massaged his scalp, earning herself a grateful sigh as he dropped his head back, revelling in the sensation of being so thoroughly cared for.

Shifting around to face him, she placed a single kiss to his lips, then dropped to give attention to his muscled thighs and calves. Letting the water rinse the soap from her fingers, she ran one slim hand up his inner thigh and then higher, to wrap around the shaft standing to attention near her face. He jerked slightly as she ran her hand down his length and weighed what hung beneath in her palm. He shifted from foot to foot. Throwing caution to the wind, she encircled him with both hands and licked one long stripe along the underside.

He groaned, nearly stepped back, and then steadied himself. “Y-You don’t have to do that, sweetness.”

She looked up in alarm, shy embarrassment threatening to well up in her. “Am I doing it wrong?”

He bent down, lifted her, and buried his face in her shoulder.

“Quite the opposite, sweetness. You feel fantastic.”

“Then why did you stop me? I want to make you feel good!”

He chuckled ruefully. “I guess I’m just a foolish old man who doesn’t know what’s good for him.” He paused. “I, uh, I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything, Persephone.”

Suddenly filled with a mix of indignation and relief, she grabbed his face in both hands and positively _growled_ at him, her eyes boring into his. “I swear to the gods, Hades, if you keep assuming I don’t want you, I don’t know what I’m going to do.” 

Holding his gaze, defiant, she slid down again and, in a sudden movement, fit as much of him as she could in her mouth and began to suck. He groaned and leaned back on the shower wall as her hands took the rest of his length. 

It was heady to have him under her sway like this, making him moan out her name and move with her, enjoying the subtly masculine taste of him. She wasn’t quite sure how to keep the rhythm, but he didn’t seem to mind her lack of experience, supported by the shower wall, his head thrown back and eyes shut as she bobbed. Experimentally, she ran her tongue around the head and was rewarded by a strangled groan, and then suddenly he was lifting her to her feet.

“W-What’s the matter?”

He didn’t answer, pulling her up higher to devour her mouth, running his tongue over her teeth, tasting her. He rested her back against the wall, making her squeak as she came in contact with the cold surface.

“Could you hover for me, sweetness? There’s something I want to do.” His voice was ragged and she saw red bleeding into his eyes. He was looking at her like a starving man; it made something clench in her lower belly, hunger answering hunger. 

She lifted off the ground and he guided her up higher than she’d expected, uncharacteristically impatient. He breathed on her, spread her wide, ran his fingers across her, felt her wetness. She squirmed, hot blood rising in her cheeks and flushing her chest. There was no space for teasing this time - he licked a stripe down her center and then began to pleasure her in earnest, her legs over his shoulders, his hands supporting her firmly against the shower wall. He brought her up hard and quick and she flew apart with a cry, nearly sobbing as he continued to ravish her through her pleasure, insatiable, toppling her over the crest a second time in quick succession. Gentling his motions, he held her there for a moment, then set her back down on her feet and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. 

The color in his eyes had not abated. She imagined that her own were probably a match.

It felt so different from yesterday. Her legs were wobbly but not boneless. Instead of sleepiness, his mouth had woken a fire in her lower belly. She floated up, carded her fingers in his hair, slipped her tongue in his mouth, and then wrapped her legs around his waist and ground herself against him.

A deep growl rumbled from his chest, and he moved until she was braced against the shower door. He turned the lock. Their reflections showed dimly in the mirror through the steam-clouded glass.

“Persephone, I want you.”

Red eyes met red.

“Then have me.”

He groaned as she rubbed herself along his length, angling her hips. Feeling him align with her entrance, she tensed ever so slightly, and he stilled. 

Even in this state, on the edge of control, he was still attuned to her, watching her, caring for her. 

She tilted her head to kiss him, surrounded by his scent and the warm water, and relaxed her muscles. He stayed unmoving. Dropping one hand, she ran it over herself and down his length, and shifted ever so slightly to feel him just nudge past her entrance. It was a strange sensation, to be stretched wide, so much wider than his fingers. His size was intimidating, but she persisted, shifting her hips to take more of him, agonizingly slow. 

His head was buried in her shoulder, the cords of his neck standing out as he struggled to keep himself in check. She clenched her muscles around him and he groaned and sucked a mark onto her neck, making her gasp in return. Emboldened, she shifted again, taking more of him, feeling him fill and stretch her, revelling in the strangeness of it all. Letting go of an unwelcome memory, she paused for a beat, letting herself be grounded in his presence, and then finally slid down until she felt him bottom out somewhere deep inside of her.

The sensation was...uncomfortable. She shifted back up a little, earning her another moan, another mark along her throat.

“Gods, Persephone, you’re going to kill me.”

She smiled and did it again, acclimating herself to the sensation. “Well,” she whispered shakily against his ear, “it’s a good thing we’re already in the underworld. You don’t have to go anywhere. Good thing, too - I wouldn’t let you.” 

She rolled her hips a little and gasped as he moved with her, bottoming out again. This time there was pleasure mixed in with the ache. Supporting her with both hands, he drew out slightly, then thrust back, causing the muscles in her belly to clench in pleasure. He pulled out further, and this time she met his stroke, crying out as he moaned her name. She rolled her hips and he followed her rhythm until they moved in unison, mouths crushing back together, falling into one another. She felt so full, all the nerves in her core on fire. 

He breathed raggedly into her ear. “Reach down and touch yourself, little goddess. I want to hear you cry my name when you come. It sounds so sweet when you say it.”

Her head lolled as she reached down to run one hand over where their bodies joined, the pleasure of the fullness and the pleasure of her fingers twining together as she rose higher and higher, keening louder and louder as he thrust in earnest, moaning out praises to her. He pressed her against the shower door, shifting his angle and sending waves of sensation radiating through her as he filled every part of her being, body and soul. She felt his hips began to stutter and found herself soaring, wailing as she flew apart, pulsing around him as he roared out her name and jerked against her.

\--

He sagged against the shower door, careful not to crush her, then slowly sank to the floor, water beating down on them from above. She sprawled across his chest, languid as a cat. His breathing was still uneven, and he stared fuzzy-eyed at the ceiling and a few pink butterflies that floated there.

“Hades,” she purred.

“Y-Yes, sweetness?” He craned his head to look at her.

“You didn’t let me finish what I started.”  
  
“I most heartily beg to differ.”

She lifted up a little and fixed him with a stare, all mock sternness. “At this rate, we’re never going to even the score.”

He let his head sink back down; the water drummed a tattoo against their legs. 

“Sweetness, if this is the reward for an uneven score, I can promise you I will find every conceivable way to run up my tally, for the rest of eternity. I’ll never let you catch up.”

She let out a giggle of pure, giddy, unadulterated delight, shimmying up to press a kiss to his lips. “Is that a promise or a threat?”

A devilish grin spread across his face. “Why choose?”

“I’ll hold you to it, you know.” 

“Believe me, little goddess...I’m counting on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fin!
> 
> Welp, this has been a fun ride, pun definitely intended.
> 
> I initially wrote this fic in a fugue state over the course of two days, after bingeing the comic twice in a row after it came back from hiatus, because I just desperately needed these two to get on with it. I don't know if I'll ever be able to replicate that level of zeal for any future endeavors, but I may give it a try anyhow. :)
> 
> Thank you for all your kind comments, this has definitely been a fun experience. Until next time...keep it sleazy!


End file.
